by Tanya Huff
Up until that point, Stasya hadn’t been sure, but now, all of a sudden, she was. “I began by believing her,” she admitted. “I ended up by believing him.”
“Why?” Theron asked quietly.
“I watched him, Majesty, all the long way back from Ohrid, and Pjerin a’Stasiek is not the type to commit treason. He’d never allow anyone else to do his fighting for him. If he has an argument with you, he’ll face you directly rather than try to stab you in the back.”
“Even if he thinks he’ll lose?”
“He wouldn’t ever think that, Majesty.”
“And I suppose your opinion is not likely to be influenced by his physical attributes,” Theron mused, raised brows making the statement a question.
Stasya snorted. “You can count on it, Majesty.”
“In your unbiased opinion then, leaving aside for a moment whether or not the duc would commit treason in the first place, if he were caught, how would he behave?”
“He’d be defiant, Majesty. No question about it. He’d dare you to do your worst.”
Theron nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”
Stasya’s eyes widened and she took an involuntary step forward. “You don’t believe he did it either!”
“Your Majesty, I protest!” Liene charged around the corner of the desk so that she stood between the king and the younger bard. “The Duc of Ohrid admitted his guilt not once but twice when questioned under Command. Belief doesn’t come into it!”
“Your protest is noted, Captain,” Theron told her calmly. “But belief very much comes into it. If I don’t believe the man is guilty, I’m not going to order his death.”
“But he was Commanded to speak only the truth!”
“Then, obviously, someone altered the truth.”
Liene drew herself up to her full height, her eyes glittering dangerously. “Majesty, are you suggesting that one of my bards …”
“No.” Theron cut her off abruptly. “I’m not.”
Still scowling, the captain was left with nothing to say.
Stasya stepped into the silence. “Majesty, Pjerin said that during the time he was under Command, he felt pushed to the back of his head while someone else used his mouth, and the worst of it was that the words weren’t so much outright lies as twisted bits of the truth. He could remember most of them happening but not in the way they came out.”
“He said all this to you?”
“To myself and Annice, yes, Majesty.”
Theron slammed his fist down on the desk. Both bards jumped at the sudden explosion of sound. “But the arrogant fool would rather go to the block than say any of this to me! The stiff-necked young ass!” Drawing in a deep breath, he exhaled it all in a rush. “And Annice! Would rather commit treason herself …” His gold signet flashed as he waved a hand at Stasya. “… and convince you to help her with it, than come to me with her suspicions. Did they consider me such a tyrant that I wouldn’t listen? Did they think I don’t have eyes or ears of my own? By the Center, they deserve each other!”
Stasya couldn’t help it, her nerves were stretched tight enough to strum and the last she’d seen of Annice and Pjerin they were having a low-voiced but edged argument over the best way to leave the Citadel. She snickered.
To her relief, Theron took no offense. He sat back in his chair and shook his head. “I can well imagine,” he said with feeling. “The irresistible opinion meeting the immovable conceit. Well, you’d better bring them back before they kill each other and we can start straightening this mess out.”
“Bring them back, Majesty?”
“Yes. Bring them back. Send a kigh with a message.” He glanced from bard to bard. Both were looking as though they’d just stepped in something foul and sticky. “Is there a problem?” His tone made it clear that, if there was, they’d best overcome it and quickly.
“The kigh, the air kigh, that is, Majesty, won’t have anything to do with Annice at this point in time.”
Theron rubbed at his temples. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised. Trust Annice to make it difficult. “So,” he sighed. “What’s she done to alienate them?”
“Your pardon, Majesty.” Stasya jumped in before the captain could say anything. “But it really isn’t our place to say.”
“Yes, it is,” Theron told her, his temper beginning to fray again. “It’s your place to answer my questions. I’m the king. That’s the way the system works. Now then, what has my sister done to alienate the kigh?”
The words “my sister” seemed to hang in the air. Even Theron seemed a little startled by them.
A hesitant tapping on the door became a welcome distraction.
At the king’s barked command, the page came far enough into the room to be heard, but not so far he couldn’t make a quick escape if it became necessary. “I—I didn’t want to interrupt, Majesty, but there’s a man out here and he has one of these.”
The thin copper disk resting on the boy’s outstretched palm bore the highly polished, raised image of a crowned ship. It gave the bearer access to the king at any time. In his ten years on the throne, Theron had given out only three.
“Does he have a name?”
“Yes, Majesty. Leonas.”
Stasya shot the captain a startled look. The captain frowned.
Leonas walked into the king’s private office as though he were walking into a chamber back in Bardic Hall. Stasya half expected to see him set down a tray of food and demand to know why they’d all tried to skip breakfast. He’d taken off his apron but apparently thought that his working clothes were suitable for a visit to his sovereign.
“I heard you sent for them,” he said before anyone in the room could speak. “So I figured you’d found out and I’d save you the trouble of sending for me, too.”
“You helped with this?” Theron demanded incredulously.
“Well, not exactly helped, Majesty, although I tried to see she ate right. But I knew about it.”
“Then why didn’t you see fit to inform me?”
Leonas shrugged. “Didn’t seem like my place to tell you, Majesty. Kept hoping she’d tell you herself.” He jerked his head at Stasya. “Where’s the princess?”
Stasya opened her mouth but no sound came out. Leonas had been King Theron’s spy? Finally she managed a strangled, “You shit! Annice trusted you!”
He stiffened. “And I never betrayed that trust. I served the princess to the best of my abilities.” Glaring at the bard, he didn’t see Theron’s brows rise, but the captain did and she wondered if Leonas was even aware of the shift in his allegiance. He didn’t appear to be as he asked, “Where is she?”
Still sputtering, Stasya was unsettled enough to answer. “She helped the Duc of Ohrid escape from the dungeon last night and ended up going with him.”
“What!”
“I thought you knew about it?” Theron stood and came out from around the desk.
“Not about this!” The older man looked stunned. “I figured you’d found out about the baby.”
“The what!”
“The baby,” Leonas repeated. He turned his attention back to Stasya. “What were you thinkin’, letting her go off with this duc fellow? I thought that you had more brains than that!”
“Why does everyone seem to think I could’ve stopped her?” Stasya demanded of the room at large. “You know how she is when she gets an idea in her head. And besides, he wouldn’t leave without her.”
“His baby?”
“Yes.” There didn’t seem to be any reason to deny it. “But that’s not why she went with him. Without her to block the kigh, he’d be picked up again in minutes. It was the only solution; we couldn’t just let him die.”
“Let me see if I have the gist of this.” Theron barely raised his voice, but it filled the room in such a way that the server and both bards gave him their complete attention. “My sister is pregnant …” He paused. It was the loudest silence any of them had ever heard. “… with the duc of Ohrid’s child …” Again th
e pause. The silence rang. “… and they are now hidden from the kigh because of her condition?”
Liene stepped forward. When it came right down to it, Annice was her responsibility, so this was her responsibility. “Yes, Majesty.”
“How long have you known?”
“About the father …” She shot a glance at Stasya heavy with promise. “… I found out as you did, Majesty. About the child; since she returned from Ohrid.”
Theron’s brows drew in so tightly they met over his nose. “I’m only going to ask this once: why wasn’t I told?”
At last, an easy answer. Liene met his eyes. “As Leonas said, Majesty, I was hoping she’d tell you herself.”
“Then why didn’t she?”
“I expect it’s because she was afraid you’d have her executed for treason.”
“Executed? Where did she get such a …”
By the will of the late King Mikus, you have permission to enter Bardic Hall. I, Theron, King of Shkoder, High Captain of the Broken Islands, Lord over the Mountain Principalities of Sibiu, Ohrid, Ajud, Bicaz, and Somes, do on this day declare that by doing so you forfeit all rights of royalty, that you shall surrender all titles and incomes, that all save your personal possessions shall revert to the crown. Furthermore, for the stability of the realm, you may neither join nor bear children without the express permission of the crown. To do so will be considered a treasonous act and will be punished as such.
Theron shook his head. “She couldn’t have believed I’d go through with it.”
“With respect, Majesty …” Too skilled to let it show, Liene was enjoying herself for the first time since she’d been jolted out of her bed by an urgent summons from the king. “… the proclamation laid it out rather clearly. While Annice might not have believed it at first, when it became obvious that you no longer considered her a member of the family, it became easier for her to believe the rest.”
“You could’ve told her she was wrong!”
“If you’ll recall, Majesty, when I attempted, just after you took the throne, to suggest that you had been, perhaps, a little harsh, and that you might reword the proclamation to lessen its impact, you told me that it was necessary for the smooth running of the kingdom that the king’s word be perceived as law.”
He stared at her for a moment, fully aware of the sarcasm behind each word and equally aware that the captain had far too much control for him to call her on it. “It is also necessary for the smooth running of the kingdom that the king be perceived as able to change his mind,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “And, if you’ll recall, I attempted to forgive her, but she decided she didn’t want to be forgiven.”
“She didn’t want the forgiveness of her king.” There could be no fault found with the captain’s respectful tone. “She wanted the understanding of her brother.”
“They are the same person!”
“Majesty?” Stasya decided to explain before the king lost his temper and the bards lost their captain. “I think Annice was too proud to go to you when she thought you wanted nothing to do with her. I think she finally found something you’d have to notice, a guaranteed way for you to send for her.”
“By throwing my own words in my face?”
“I don’t think she thought that …”
“I doubt she thought at all,” Theron snapped. “Go on.”
“Well, before you found out …” Stasya hid a wince as he glared at the captain who stood listening impassively. “… this whole thing with the duc happened. She couldn’t tell you then. Her baby was under the weight of a double treason—hers and its father’s. There has to be a limit to how much a king can forgive.” She stressed his title.
“I take it you agreed with her assessment?”
“Yes, sire.”
“So she couldn’t come to me with her suspicions because of the child?”
“We didn’t know you suspected that the duc had been set up, Majesty. We didn’t think you’d believe her and we couldn’t take the risk only to have His Grace still go to the block.”
Theron pulled at the collar of his tunic. Annice had thrown her unwillingness to compromise in his face right from the beginning. He couldn’t back down from that kind of a challenge.
Now she was pregnant and on the run with a man accused of treason. He didn’t doubt for a moment she was challenging him again. But this time, more than just the two of them were involved.
The collar button twisted off in his fingers and with an annoyed growl he tossed it onto the desk. “What were you planning on telling people,” he demanded of Stasya, “when they noticed she wasn’t around?”
“That the execution had upset her, Majesty, and she’d gone to stay with my family down coast.”
“Good. Then that’s where she is.”
“But, Majesty, there won’t be an execution.”
Theron smiled grimly. “Oh, yes, there will.”
Stasya’s hand went to her throat.
“Executions are witnessed by five people,” he continued, “Myself, the Bardic Captain, two guards, and the executioner. They take place in an interior courtyard without an audience. The executioner is …” His lips pursed as he searched for the right epithet. “… discreet, the captain will speak with the guards, and you, Leonas, will get some fresh blood from the kitchens. The servers will expect to have to scrub the cobblestones.”
“Begging Your Majesty’s pardon, but this is beginning to sound like a fledgling’s ballad.” Liene’s nostrils were pinched with the effort of keeping her opinion even that restrained.
“Someone has worked very hard to make us believe that the duc is guilty of treason, Captain. If they think they’ve succeeded, we’ll be one step closer to catching them.” Theron perched on the corner of his desk. “The quickest way to discover who rearranged young Ohrid’s memories would be to put him back under Command and ask him but, as I understand it, as long as he remains with Annice, you,” he nodded at the captain, “can’t find him.”
“Essentially correct, sire.”
“And if I send the guard out after them,” he continued thoughtfully, “I’ve no doubt I’ll alert that someone and throw away our one advantage.”
“You can’t just leave the princess out there, about to have a child!” Leonas protested.
The set of Stasya’s shoulders said much the same thing.
“I can’t send the guard after the duc,” Theron mused, then all at once he smiled. “But there’s nothing that says I can’t send the guard after Annice.”
Stasya felt her jaw drop. “She’ll be furious, Majesty.”
The king’s smile never faltered. “Good. I found out about the baby, she ran, and I want her back. There’s nothing anyone can use in that.”
“How’re they going to bring her back without hurting her?” Leonas asked, arms folded across his chest. “She won’t just come ‘cause you order it, Majesty; not the princess, no, she won’t.”
“I could go after her, Majesty,” Stasya offered, eagerly. “I know which way they’ve gone.”
Theron thought about it for a moment then shook his head. “No. Only the four of us know what’s actually going on, I can’t afford to have you out of whatever plan we create to capture the real traitor.” He picked up the collar button and rubbed it between his fingers. “Still, it’s essential we get the duc back and find out exactly what’s been done to him. It’ll have to be the guards.”
“The duc’ll fight if the guards try an’ take her,” Leonas insisted stubbornly. “Then the guards’ll know who he is.”
While Theron appreciated the affection the old man had for Annice, his attitude was becoming annoying. “He’s not likely to identify himself,” he snapped. “I’ve plenty of guards who’ve never seen the duc and all they’ll know is Annice has run off with the man who fathered her child and I want them both brought back to Elbasan. I think a troop of guard can handle one pregnant bard and the Duc of Ohrid. They won’t hurt her and if they have to knock him on his
ass to get him here, maybe next time he’ll consider confiding in his king.”
When Leonas opened his mouth again, Theron abruptly raised a hand. “Enough. Annice is going to have to live with the consequences of her actions. If she’d come to me with her suspicions, none of this would be necessary.”
“Your pardon, Majesty?” Liene recognized the tone in the king’s voice and decided she’d better speak before he felt the urge for another proclamation he’d come to regret. It was time to remind him that Annice was by far the least of his concerns. “Who would want you to believe Pjerin a’Stasiek is a traitor?”
“A good question.” Theron agreed to be distracted. “And there’s only one logical answer. Queen Jirina of Cemandia.”
Liene frowned. “Why would Cemandia want you to discover a plot involving Cemandia?”
“This is how I see their reasoning: Queen Jirina has made no secret of wanting a seaport and has to know we’ve heard about the mercenaries she’s been importing. I know Defiance Pass at Ohrid is the only way she can bring an army into Shkoder, so I strengthen it. Unless I think I’ve discovered their plan and neutralized it, thereby removing the threat.
“But the plot involving the duc was a blind, a setup I was intended to discover. They not only want me to believe I’ve taken care of the threat, but they want me to remove young Pjerin from their way.” His voice hardened. “I don’t like being used.”
“It seems logical,” Liene admitted after a moment of turning it over and examining it from all sides. “But why not let them know they’ve failed?”
“Two reasons. First, if the duc isn’t the traitor, someone else is—or Jirina wouldn’t think she could get an army through the pass. I want that someone.” His expression darkened. “I’m going to lay out a path to the block and dance them down it.”
The sudden crack of the carved wooden button snapping between his fingers jerked everyone’s gaze to his hands. Theron took a deep breath and let the two pieces fall to the carpet. “Secondly,” he continued as though nothing had happened, “if the someone in Cemandia is able to work around Command, I want to know how and who and I want to know it now, not later when they’ve made an attempt we didn’t discover.”
